Jane's esteem
by EntrancedCat
Summary: Jane Lane was an old hand at teen self-esteem class when she and Daria Morgendorffer met. How did the self-esteem course get started at Lawndale High and why was Mr. O'Neill chosen to teach it? How did Jane Lane get forced into the class in the first place?


**Jane's esteem**

"I've never taught self-esteem to teens, Angela," Timothy O'Neill expressed to his boss, Principal Angela Li. "I'm not sure I have the self-confidence to give these teens the self-confidence which they so desperately need."

"Then the course will be good for you and the teens, Timothy," Principal Li assured him for the third or fourth time. "We have full lesson plans and lectures ready for you to memorize…I mean review. And if anyone asks questions just tell them that the video will answer everything. I did mention there is one fifteen to twenty minute video provided with each 45-minute class, didn't I? The students of Lllaaawndale High need this class and, of course, it is provided by generous donations from the Sedimentary Rock Country Club and Links and uh-hmmm Axl's Piercing Parlor."

Mr. O'Neill bit his lip in thought then brightened and announced, "Alright! I'll do it, Principal Li. I owe it to these students to help them through the difficult teenage years."

"I knew I could count on you, Mr. O'Neill," Principal Li said while standing and starting to usher him from her office. "Now I'll discuss with Mrs. Manson about screening students to attend your first session. Oh, and thanks so much for donating half your fee for the course back to Lawndale High."

Mr. O'Neill was about to say something but Ms. Li was welcoming Mrs. Manson, the school counselor, into her office and closing the door.

Jane Lane lifted her cheek from the desk as Jodie Landon gently prodded her signaling the end of econ class. "Thanks," she wordlessly mouthed at Jodie who gave her a bemused smile and slight shake of the head.

Jane shook her short, black hair back from her face and looked down at her desk. She blushed as she realized she had been dozing with her mouth open again. Jane believed in God but was not big on prayer, however, she thought a sincere entreaty as she made her way out the door, "Lord, I don't mind sleeping in class but please don't let me drool, Lord, no drool."

"Ms. Lane," Mrs. Bennett called as Jane was almost out the door. Jane braced for a mini-lecture concerning her intracurricular slumbers. But Mrs. Bennett continued, "Please stop by Mrs. Manson's office next period which, I believe, is study hall for you. Here's a hall pass." Jane nodded groggily and headed down the hall.

"What could Manson want now?" Jane thought as she wandered along, in no hurry to get there. She had avoided Mrs. Manson ever since art teacher Claire Defoe had convinced the counselor that Jane's more colorful, expressive and macabre paintings were not the symptoms of a disturbed, pleading, needy teen id.

Jennifer "Burnout Girl" Penner came storming from Mrs. Manson's office as Jane approached. Jennifer's thick blonde hair was waving as she waved a purple mimeograph around and announced to Jane, "God, make one stupid joke and they make you attend some 'teen self-esteem' class after school. 'Teen self-esteem'? What the hell is that? God, I need a cigarette." Jenn ducked out a side door to the parking lot before Jane could ask her what to expect from Mrs. Manson.

Jane quickly decided to be more than usually careful with Mrs. Manson based on Jennifer's outburst. Kids called her "Burnout Girl" but Jane knew she was no stoner. Andrea Engebretson, Jennifer's friend and Lawndale's token Goth chick, had confided to Jane that Jennifer hated drugs, having seen the all too real burnout of an older, favorite cousin. Jane had been partners with Jenn on projects since middle school and found Jenn to be deceptively slow to make decisions but keenly perceptive, seeing things which Jane would have never thought of in a million years. Plus Jennifer's wry, skewed wit often left Jane chuckling days later as she realized another layer to Jennifer's comments.

Even so, Jane and Jennifer or Jane and Andrea or the brain Jodie for that matter had never really clicked as close friends. That left Jane with the not-unfamiliar but still dismal prospect of another semester without a best friend in Lawndale High where social status counted for so much and one's compadres were the only sure comfort for a relative loner and outsider like Jane.

"Come in, Jane," Mrs. Manson called. "Have a seat." Jane sat down in the chair closest to the door at one of the few round tables in the building. She figured the round table was to promote a sense of equality and closeness between counselor and counselees, a sense immediately quashed as Mrs. Manson perched her narrow, severe glasses on her nose and regarded Jane down the length of it.

"So Ms. Lane," Manson began dryly. "I want to show you a picture or two and get your reaction."

"If it's about my paintings," Jane started in defensively. "Could we have Ms. Defoe here too?"

"No, no," Mrs. Manson said with a plastic smile. "That little incident is behind us. All a misunderstanding. Still, it did alert me that perhaps you may benefit from availing yourself of a new opportunity Lawndale High has to offer to serve its students. But that's to be determined. Let's begin."

Jane watched warily as Mrs. Manson held up an 8x10 card with a crude drawing in blue ink of a woman and man talking. "Now, Jane, can you tell me what you see here?"

"A gal and guy talking," Jane said figuring that the simplest answers avoided any traps the best.

"Yes! Very good," Mrs. Manson continued. "Now can you make up a little story about what they are talking about?"

Jane thought that was next but was certainly still unsure what was needed to get herself out of the office without harm. But she thought that hesitation was not a good thing either so she plunged in, "She's offering him a tray of sushi and sashimi but he's reluctant because he's never seen or heard of it before. He can tell it's fish and it's uncooked but he's only used to fish from muddy lakes so he definitely doesn't want to eat it raw. She is thinking that she has a lot to teach him."

Jane's artist imagination got the best of her and she continued, "Or she is holding a tray of face paint on Halloween morning and offering to paint his face before he heads to his boring job in the city. He is wondering what color combos go best with his blue eyes." Jane could think of several other stories but thought discretion was best and lifted her eyes off the drawing to see Mrs. Manson scribbling notes.

"Thank you, thank you, Jane. I think we're done," Mrs. Manson said and began filling out a purple mimeographed sheet.

One of the advantages of Jane's art efforts was the ability to easily read upside down and backwards, even scribbly, rapid handwriting like Mrs. Manson's. "…cannot commit to a single story…," Jane read before Mrs. Manson caught her scanning the page and closed the notebook.

"Well, Jane," Mrs. Manson began, regarding Jane with the merest wisp of a slight, Mona Lisa superior smile. "I do believe you will benefit from a wonderful, new teen self-esteem course which we now have to offer our students. It will help with your confidence and conviction and ability to commit to your decisions. Mr. O'Neill is very excited to teach it. You will meet for two weeks for 45 minutes after each school day. Just take this admission slip to the first class next Monday. It lists all the details."

Jane was a bit shocked but scanned the purple sheet. She wanted to ask a few questions but could see Mrs. Manson was completely done with her for the day having turned to reading a well-thumbed copy of "Games People Play."

Jane let herself out and pondered the situation on the way to her locker. "Self-esteem, huh? Jenn's right. It sounds like malarkey but might get my creative juices flowing again. I've been a little dry lately on the inspiration front. And it might beat going home to hear Trent snoring or Mystik Spiral practicing before I try to scrounge up something for dinner. Mr. O'Neill does have a soothing voice, I could use another nappy-time."

She shook her head, "No, what I need right now is a good run." The 5'5'', slender, black-haired girl lifted her arms high in an all-body, tip-toe stretch which ended in a satisfying wiggle. Jane was oblivious to the thud and muttered cursing of two of Lawndale High's male students colliding as their heads snapped to the side to take in her supple leg muscles rippling beneath taut black shorts and matching skin-tight leggings.

Study hall was the last period of Jane's day. She carefully considered the lightest load she would need to take home for that night's homework. She would trot home in her heavy but supple black boots, change into running togs and the new, expensive running-shoes her father had bought her on his last infrequent visit home. Then a good run would clear her head and let her consider this self-esteem thing. Or maybe not. Maybe it wasn't worth thinking about until it happened. Jane stared back into the bright, alarmingly-blue eyes in her locker mirror and gave her reflection a broad smile. "Hey, teen, whatever happens I know you can handle it."

Monday rolled around after the weekend as it is wont to do and at the end of her day Jane found herself clutching a purple mimeographed sheet and gathering with a dozen other purple-sheet holding students before O'Neill's classroom door. "Typical," Jane thought. "It's a who's who, rogues gallery of Lawndale's supposed losers, loners and outcasts." Jenn Penner was there, of course, spraying something into her mouth and surreptitiously sniffing her fingers. Bob what's-his-name, the gentle metal-head, was gazing at something or other on the ceiling. Jane was mildly surprised that Andrea Engebretson had somehow escaped the esteem net.

A nervous-looking Mr. O'Neill opened his door and everyone shuffled in and chose desks, trying to take the spots they usually occupied in his language arts classes.

Without preparatory remarks Mr. O'Neill began, "Esteem…a-teen? They don't really rhyme do they? The sounds don't quite mesh…"

As Mr. O'Neill droned on, Jane found the desk surface gently, slowly getting closer and closer to her cheek.

All characters are copyright MTV, division of Viacom. This story is intended solely for the entertainment of Daria fans and not for any monetary gain.


End file.
